by Denise Keppel
Marvel owns the Guthrie clan, I'm
not making money off of this story.
Many thanks to those that proofed this story for me.
Sam pulled his jacket tightly around him as he walked into his family's home that November afternoon. It was the bitter part of autumn, when the trees had lost all their leaves, the fields had been harvested, and the sun was lacking its usual spark. Without a blanket of snow, death was everywhere. Luckily, it was cold outside, and it felt like it was going to snow before morning.
Some things never changed, he thought as he entered the house. The old coat holder still stood behind the front door. It was now covered with jackets, and Sam had to lay his down on the chair next to it. Even though his family was big, it took a wedding, a birth, or a death to gather as many people as were there. Another way to point out that Paige was dying.
Sam looked into the mirror, and saw the same face that he had seen for close to ninety years. His body had stopped aging but time didn't stop. He looked the same the day he died and came back as he did when his mother died, Paige got married, Joelle gave birth to little Sam, and the day his beloved wife died. Time kept moving, yet he was frozen in his twenties.
He looked at the wide assortment of toys that were scattered on the floor. Paige always liked her great-grandkids to have a lot to play with. They were, she had decided, better than grandkids to spoil.
"Little" Sam, or Samuel, as he liked being called, met Sam at the door. "Didn't think ya'd make it," Sam said as he balanced his weight on his cane. How long has Samuel used that thing? It was only yesterday that he was learning to walk. "Too young ta' use this dang-blasted thing," Samuel muttered.
"Almost didn't come, but Ah promised Paige," Sam responded as he looked at his namesake. Samuel had looked just like him growing up. Was this the face he should have seen when he looked in the mirror?
"She's in an' out mostly now. The doc' gave 'er a morphine drip, she's in no pain. Shouldn't be long now." Samuel had a hard time saying it. Even though Paige had lived to be nearly a hundred, he wasn't ready to let go of the woman who had been a second mother to him most of his life. He was only three when Joelle had died giving birth to her fourth child, her death a result of the poverty and lack of decent medical care that was too common for the Appalachian Mountains region. Paige took in Joelle's kids and raised them as her own.
Paige's death would be officially due to the Legacy virus-delta, which to a mutant was the same thing as diabetes was to a non-mutant, a controllable condition. The Legacy virus had been discovered to have several different make-ups, one that killed almost instantly, another that attacked humans, one that attacked mutants but was curable, and one that was controllable. Paige had lived with Legacy for nearly thirty years. In reality, she was dying of old age. She didn't have the strength to fight anymore.
Sam sighed and ran his hand though his hair. "The younger ones-- they know who Ah am?" He hadn't been around much, the farm held some bitter memories for him. This was where he fell in love with his wife, first held his daughter, and lost them both. The last time he came back was for Oliver's burial, nearly ten years ago.
Samuel shook his head. "Most no, but we decided ta' warn those who're mutants." For some reason, the Guthrie clan produced many mutant children. A long time ago, Paige felt it was important to warn them that one day they could be like their Uncle Sam, cursed with near immortality.
"Any externals among 'em?" Any mutants with somethin' attached to their X-factor that'd nearly cure 'em a' death?
"Thought Eastah mighta been, but she died after 'er stroke." Easter, Josh's little girl. "Thank goodness," Samuel whispered. "She woulda never been the same."
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Can Ah go see Paige?"
Samuel nodded. "She's in 'er room."
Sam walked though the Guthrie clan, nodding to some, hugging a few others. The younger children tried to place him among their family. The older ones whispered about him: "Paige's brother." "Can't die." A few in the group looked at him with pity, others with fear. He was the reason that they had to worry about outliving their loved ones.
Every time the house had been destroyed, the Guthrie family had rebuilt it using the same floor plan. Paige's room was where it was when she was a child. He fought back memories as he stood outside the door.
"Ah'm your big brother, and you's just a dumb baby. Ah'm right and yer mah slave fer life."
"Pa's gone ta' heaven."
"Proud a' ya', sis."
"Paige, Momma's cancer spread. The doc' says she don't have that long."
"Ah love ya', and Ah want what's best for ya'."
"Ah wish Pa could see ya' lookin' so beautiful on your weddin' day."
He opened the door to find his sister lying in the bed, engulfed by the quilt Joelle had made for Paige's wedding. Paige's long white hair was braided, hanging off to one side. She had lost a lot of weight, her face was wrinkled. This wasn't the baby he had tried to order around, this was an old, old woman.
Sam walked in the room. The time was soon, he could hear the death rattle when she breathed. Maybe he was the only person alive that still believed in that mountain tale, but it was true.
"Sam-Sam?" Paige opened her eyes and reached out with a frail hand to touch his face. "Thought ya' was a dream."
Sam tried not to cry. "Told ya' Ah'd be here for ya'."
"Dreamin' 'bout the time, your birthday, 'member? Came home from school and found out that Joelle had joined the Friends of Humanity. Had ta' fight sentinels ta' get her out. Ya' came fer me then, even when ya' were so hurt. Angelo was with ya', he always looked out fer me." Her mind was piecing together memories from events in her life. Quickly, Sam looked at the figurine of a country mouse that stood on her night stand. Angelo had loved her so.
Tears started to well up. "Ah remember." It was so hard not to cry.
"Don't cry Sam, soon, no more pain." Paige had lived with chronic pain for over forty years, dating back to the time she had taken a photon blast in her leg. Her shell had stopped most of the damage, but she could never walk the same again. "Love ya'."
"Ah'll try not ta' cry, sis." Sam promised. "Love ya' too." He kissed the hand on his face and gently touched the hand with the IV in it. How could it be that they had had so much time to spend together, yet he hadn't told her often enough he loved her? There was so much left to say, and no time left to say it in.
"Lookin' forward ta' heaven," Paige started to gasp, fighting for her next breath. "Ma and Pa, Angelo, everybody there." Paige was silent for a second, but stared at her brother. "Promise me- one day- that Ah'll see ya' there."
Sam nodded, not daring to say a word. Part of him wanted to die, the other wanted to live forever, just to tell the world what he had seen in his lifetime. Mutant hatred, mutant peace, the colonization of the moon, the cure for AIDS, massive famine, and wars; he had seen them all.
Paige asked him, "How does it feel not ta' die?" The rattling grew stronger.
He paused, trying to find words to answer the question. Already, he had been witness to some of the most astounding events known to man an been privileged to know some of the world changers. He had become living history, and would be for many decades to come. It was an honorable burden.
But as he started to answer the question, he heard a screech owl. Sam turned to the window, he had been told that species was extinct. A raven was on the window still, but flew away the second Sam saw it. It became eerily quiet in the room. The rattling had stopped, Paige had died.
Sam got up, not bothering to hide the tears. Quickly, he ran out of the room and then out of the house. He ran, not knowing where he was going. Finally, he found himself at the family cemetery. There, his family lay before him. In accordance with family tradition, Paige's grave had already been dug. He found his own headstone, placed there when his wife died.
"Paige asked, How does it feel not ta' die?'" he told the tombstone. He wrapped his arms around himself, only partly because he was cold. "It's too hard. God, it's too hard."